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PURCHASE THE DIGITAL COLLECTION (2013)
B. 8.17.1887 St. Anne’s Bay, Jamaica / D. 6.10.1940 London, England
If you’re such a slave child, where is your Africa? My Africa is living alone on a poet’s wage in a charming Manhattan apartment where on a typical Saturday night Marlon Brando might be photographed on bongo drums.
Can you remember your homeland? Only its cool, uncrowded, echo-filled museums through which inexplicable breezes would waft floor wax fumes and antique velvet fragrances straight into the dreams of dozing sentinels.
(And then they’d dream— of Memphis mansions.)
And what is your hope for the Liberian Zion? That we might all find room there to be less encumbered than enriched by our attachments.
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